


Scars

by SecondToTheRight



Series: Steps [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/F, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondToTheRight/pseuds/SecondToTheRight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azula’s recovery from the point of views of the three people who cared and the two that mattered. -- Each mark was a battle, and Ty Lee a bystander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar.

She let out a strangled moan as she arched her back, trembling with each wave of pleasure that coursed through her. Fingers tightened their grip on thick dark hair before finally loosening their grasp, the rest of Ty Lee landing on silk sheets breathless. She sighed in content as an unfairly hot tongue teased its way up her still twitching body, forcing mewls to escape her. Delicious lips burned her skin, soothing the remains of playful nips until they reached her own. Ty Lee relished underneath them and met them with equal fervor despite her exhaustion.

But suddenly, the lips were gone and a night chill replaced their warmth. She shivered from the thin layer of sweat that covered her, wondering why the heat had left, when she opened her eyes.

She saw startling gold twinkling under the dim candlelight, a beautiful face watching her with an intensity Ty Lee may never grow accustomed to.

A vain part of Ty Lee loved nights like this for the unwavering attention she received. A small voice would remind her that the princess’s focus and dedication on these nights were unparalleled, that the princess deemed no one else worthy. The voice would fill her with an euphoric satisfaction she would never admit to, yet could not deny.

However, the feeling would never last.

Like all those other nights, she found the untouched pain and panic expertly hidden within clouded amber, the vulnerability that swirled with wonder and awe as eyes searched her, desperate for whatever they sought.

Ty Lee’s own dark eyes prickled as she delicately pressed both hands against once gaunt cheeks, confronting the seeking gaze with her own, something her younger self had been too frightened, too ignorant, to ever do. She had long ceased to fear, to care for, the darkness she would find. For she now knew of the light that constantly waged war with it, the light that had at one point all but gone out, the light that had won.

“Where are you?” She whispered, before bringing their foreheads together, hoping for closeness to return despite feeling the princess sever herself from everything, trap herself deep within her treacherous mind.

Ty Lee lifted her head, lightly brushing their lips together and ignoring the pang she felt at the princess’s lack of response. She felt the princess shake, a shuddering breath hitting her face as the princess sunk into her, hair tickling her neck and chin as the beautiful face hid from her.

She shut her eyes, breathing deeply, weaving her now empty hands through raven locks and down the princess’s unclothed back. Ty Lee’s breath would hitch slightly whenever her fingers passed over raised skin, conjuring from memory the exact shape, color, and story behind each scar. She knew the princess to be awake, since the princess pressed against Ty Lee just a bit more with every falter of breath.

Ty Lee’s hand paused over a long, jagged scar just off the center of the princess’s lower back, and was abruptly sent back to a time when she had wanted nothing to do with her past, had wanted to right all her wrongs.

The war had ended. She had found temporary happiness and lifelong friends in the Kyoshi Warriors. She had seen no reason to ponder over hurtful memories.

So she ignored most of the letters Mai sent and forced herself to forget the girl who had both inspired and haunted her.

She had mistakenly thought distance would give her independence, clarity, strength. She had believed it would help her grow. In a way, it had. But when she was called to return to the Fire Nation, not as a friend but a warrior, she felt no older than when she had left.

She had foolishly believed the princess no longer had any affect on her. She pretended to forget that the bleak aura she saw had once been vibrant and mesmerizing. She detached herself from caring about her new assignment and how she was too thin, too small, too empty.

It took a couple shifts for the princess to notice them, to notice her.

One moment, there had been silence. The next, an infamously sharp tongue began its attack, the voice she so clearly remembered growing in volume with each insult thrown. Suki had sent her a worried glance, but Ty Lee stared ahead. She cursed the tears, cursed the return of familiar fear. The princess was sick. The princess could not hurt her.

But then she flinched.

The princess’s venom-filled words were no longer directed at her, but at a ghost. Soon, screams turned to sobs, pleas. Suki called for a doctor, and silence surrounded them once more.

When Ty Lee saw Mai later that night, she was surprised by the accusing glare.

The princess was sick.

And Ty Lee had left.

Mai would mention how an assassin had almost succeeded in an attempt on the princess’s life, explain that had she not been in the room, not been able to push the princess away in time, a knife would have teared through more than just muscle and skin. And what had the princess done? She had laughed and egged the man on. Mai admitted then, that she was certain the princess had seen him coming and had done nothing.

Mai casually added that she had written all about it in her letters.

Then Ty Lee threw up.

Ty Lee squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for the memory to leave her, when her fingers landed on another scar, this time on the princess’s left shoulder blade. It spread across her shoulder like a web, thin threads of disfigured tissue intricately connected, with ends that tickled the base of her neck and the side of her spine.

When asked of it, the princess would offhandedly say it was from the time she had faced a dragon in an Agni Kai. Others would laugh, dismissing it as a bluff, but Ty Lee would catch the shared glances between the princess and Mai. She had lost count of the afternoons she spent watching the princess train, wondering whether or not there was some truth in the princess’s words.

The years the princess had been away were never discussed. She had escaped and, as time passed, had been thought dead by most. Rumors never ceased, but even Ty Lee had accepted death as the princess’s fate when all trails turned cold and a drought of numbness replaced her hopeful tears.

While the world celebrated the death as the true end of the Hundred Year War, Ty Lee did nothing but wish she could block out the wails of an absent mother whose return had only worsened the princess’s condition.

The unpleasant silences she and Zuko shared thereafter would just amplify an insurmountable guilt neither dared to voice. And despite her attempts, Suki simply couldn’t understand the loss of the princess. To her, the princess had only ever been a threat, a problem.

Mai went away not long after, finally allowing herself to create some space between her and her past. At least, that was what she had told Ty Lee.

Ty Lee would later question her explanation, because the next time they met, Mai had an older, calmer princess at her side.

A new war practically broke out from the princess’s reappearance. But the Avatar took care of it. Neither the princess nor he would admit it, but Ty Lee had an inkling he had known exactly where the princess had gone.

She could have drilled Mai for answers but a rare smile from her stoic friend and the sudden reddening of cheeks when intense amber focused on her made Ty Lee forgive Mai for going on an adventure without her.

The princess was alive.

And infuriating as ever, given the smirk that graced her red lips at Ty Lee’s blush.

A soft whimper retrieved her from what once was, painfully reminding her of the one thing she knew for certain. Despite her demeanor after her miraculous return, the princess would never fully recover from the war.

Ty Lee couldn’t hold back her own shudder as she grasped one of the princess’s wrists and brought a palm to her lips, nuzzling against it. Her thumb gently traced a scar whose twin could be found on the princess’s other wrist. Time had allowed them to somewhat fade, but to those who knew they existed, they would forever act as symbols. Of how unbalanced the princess had truly been, of how she too was human, of how she too could bleed.

It seemed fitting that the only one to ever come close to killing the princess was the princess herself.

Unlike the other flashes to a past that felt too long for a life less than halfway done, Ty Lee could not recount the events of that day.

Just blood. Pools of blood that she couldn’t stop no matter how tightly she pressed against the wounds. And childlike whispers from the princess feebly ordering Ty Lee to stop trying. For once she would do what her mother wanted, she had said.

“I love you,” Ty Lee said, interrupting her own thoughts, unable to keep the words in. She had to say them, in fear that the princess would revert back to that time when she believed no one loved her.

She flipped their position, now on top, forcing the princess to meet her gaze as she repeated herself. The words snapped the princess’s drifting eyes back on her, and hope grew in Ty Lee.

All she needed was the princess’s attention. She would make her see the wonder of the woman before her.

And so, she kissed each mark, whispering loving words of reassurance. She would not abandon the princess, not again.

“Come back,” she began to softly chant along with her touch, letting silent tears fall as she guided the princess back from the battle within.

“Come back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? Feedback is one of the few ways I can improve, so any type good or bad is much appreciated!


End file.
